To make them all merry belyve.
But I think he was damnable saucy,
She ne’er was intended for he;
He must get something else to his cabbage,
For it and hare flesh ’ll ne’er agree.
The next was Joe Dixon, the barber,
One morning he rose in great haste,
And swore he would have hare tit his supper,
And give all his neighbours a taste.
When firing, he swore he had kill’d her;